


Cowboy Take Me Away

by kahluawmilk, Meemith78



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Country!Bucky, M/M, Title from a Country Song, rich!steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2020-07-10 02:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19898509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kahluawmilk/pseuds/kahluawmilk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meemith78/pseuds/Meemith78
Summary: I said cowboy take me away.Fly this boy as high as you can into the wild blue.Set me free, oh, I pray.Closer to heaven above and closer to you.





	1. I Said I Wanna Touch The Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that’s been floating around in my head for awhile and I finally got to putting it on paper so here she is. All places described are based on real places in my own small town or the city I grew up near. I hope you all enjoy! ❤️
> 
> More notes below

The summer sun beat down on Bucky’s bare back as he hauled bushels of hay from his work truck to the field. It was August, and in Tennessee that meant it was, “hotter than a billy goat with a blow torch.” Buck had been out in the field taking care of his small farm and feeding his horses since about four this morning, and as it was getting close to five, that meant it was just about quittin’ time for the night. Once he’d made sure all the hay had been properly stored for the night, he made his way inside his small ranchette house, wiping his face on the tank top he’d left laying on the porch. The white fabric came off his face brown and dirty, and Bucky shook his head as he entered the house, the screen door slamming behind him.

  
After a quick shower, he headed out to his nicer Ford F-150 and headed out to the little country store just up the road from his place. Finch’s was the only store in Pegram Tennessee for a long time. That was until Nashville started growing faster than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking competition. Now, everywhere you looked there was a Dollar General Store on every corner. Still, Bucky preferred Finch’s. The people were sweet, and they’d been there since he was knee-high to a grasshopper playing little league in the park across the railroad tracks.  
“Bucky!” Mr. Finch greeted him as he came in the door.

  
“Hey ya, Mr. Finch. How’s the Missus?”

  
“Oh you know Susan. She’d lose her head if it wasn’t attached. How’s the farm?”

  
“Hot. Been sweatin’ like a whore in church I’ll tell ya.” Finch laughed and shook his head as he rung up Bucky’s usual. A pack of Marlboros and a Coke.

  
“When you bringin’ up some more of that corn to sell?”

  
“Shit, as soon as I can get the damn rabbits to quit eatin’ it all. Soon though. I’ll bring my truck up and park it in front of the store?”

  
“Course, Buck. Long as you save me some good ears of the stuff. The missus’ll have my balls if I don’t get her some for supper soon.”

  
“Thought she already had em?”

  
Finch laughed and shook his head. “Anything else for ya?”

  
“Nah. Better run up to Shell and get some gas from Larry. Just don’t tell him I buy my cigs here!” he said as he paid the man and headed for the door.

  
“You’d better not be gettin em anywhere else!”

“Never, Mr. Finch,” Bucky called, holding up his hands innocently as he left.

Pegram, Tennessee was a small town. That’s what Bucky loved about it. He knew everyone. Everyone knew him. He’d grown up there. It was the kind of town that rolled straight into the neighboring town, Kingston Springs. There were two elementary schools, one for each town, but they merged together in the fifth grade to make one middle and one high school. The towns were so wrapped up in each other, if you were from one, you pretty much knew everyone in the other as well. Collectively, the two towns had a couple of fast food joints, a bank, three parks, a couple of red lights, and a dozen Mom and Pop shops that ranged from little boutiques, to an ice cream shop, to a couple of convenience stores like Finch’s.

  
Bucky himself had gone to Pegram Elementary before moving on to Harpeth Middle and High school where he’d been a small town hero for winning them a state championship as the shortstop for the baseball team. Never went to college, of course. Most people didn’t around here. Instead he settled for going to work on his father’s farm, and once his parents had both died, he was glad he’d stayed around. He was a simple man. He didn’t have a use for any of that fancy stuff being built in Nashville these days. He preferred to work all week, root for the Vols on Saturdays, and watch the Titans on Sundays. And he certainly didn’t care much for the new music (if that’s what they wanted to call it) on the radio these days. That Keith Urban, Luke Bryan, and heaven forbid Florida Georgia Line kind of country wasn’t anything Bucky cared to listen to. He was a classic country kind of guy. His home always played records of George Jones, Alan Jackson, George Strait, and Dolly Parton. He and his cat, Alpine, would take naps together on his couch while Randy Travis sang Three Wooden Crosses softly in the background. He’d ride his favorite horse, Manning, around his farm because he loved the feeling of the wind in his hair, and when it was time for bed, he’d have a beer to wind down, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed before he’d get back up to do it all again the next day. It wasn’t a very exciting life, but it was simple. Easy. Bucky loved it.

  
Tonight though, he had other plans. He was supposed to meet a guy at a local bar downtown. He often went to these bars to meet guys because in a town like Pegram...well, being a hometown hero meant everyone knew everything about you, and this was one aspect of his life he’d rather keep private. So, he stopped in at the Shell station for gas before heading home to shower and make his dinner.

  
His house wasn’t really anything special. Just a small, one story ranch home. Three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a living room, a kitchen, and two hundred and forty-seven acres of corn fields, potato patches, and various plots of fruits and vegetables. It was a lot of work to maintain on his own, but he’d scaled back a bit since his parents had died and he was only supporting himself. He made do, and more than anything...he was happy. The inside of the small house was very rustic. He hadn’t changed much from what his mother had decorated with. Various family pictures, pictures of Bucky as a kid riding a much younger Manning around the farm, him holding the first catfish he’d ever caught. His father had been so proud of him. “You’ll feed us for a week with this one, Buck!” George Barnes had said. Of course, it had barely been enough to feed Bucky, but as a little kid, he didn’t need to know that his parents had eaten the other fish George had caught that same day.

  
The furniture was old. It hadn’t been changed since the nineties, but Winnifred Barnes had always said “If it still works, I don’t need to replace it, do I?” Bucky heartily disagreed with his mother’s sentiments, but since she had died, well, he hadn't felt the need to change anything. Maybe she’d been right all along. If it was still comfortable...why change it? Maybe it was a way of holding onto them, but Bucky didn’t mind it. He missed them, and he got lonely. If keeping their old stuff made him feel a little less...alone, then who could blame him really?

  
It was a couple hours later before he was finally dressed and ready for a night out. He didn’t have to meet his date until about nine thirty, so he was happy to take his time. It was one of those stupid online dating apps he’d downloaded during a moment of weakness. Now, here he was, getting ready to go out to one of the few gay bars in downtown Nashville and meet some guy whose name he couldn’t even remember. He’d have to pull the app back up before he got there to remind himself what the guy even looked like. Still, Bucky needed the night out. He needed a distraction from the farm. He needed to get laid. He didn’t necessarily need it to mean anything. Just a good fuck to get it all out of his system before he put his head back down and got back to work for a few weeks. That was his routine. Find a guy, any guy, have a night of casual, usually mediocre at best, sex and then head back to work until next time he started feeling like his hand just wouldn’t cut it anymore.

  
It wasn’t the most ideal setup, but it usually worked itself out. And Bucky was content enough with it. Even if he sometimes craved more than just an orgasm or two. He often found himself thinking about the life his parents had built. How nice it would be if he could find something that resembled that with someone. A warm body to hold every night, lips to kiss, someone besides Alpine waiting on him to come in for a cold glass of water and a sandwich during the day. Someone he could give all the love that he had held back for so long. Someone who understood him and what he needed and wanted from life. Surely it wasn’t the craziest idea he’d had. The thought of having someone to love...surely someone out there was made just for him and him for them, the way his parents were made for each other, and on nights when that didn’t seem likely...it was still a nice thought to get him through the cold, lonely nights.

  
“C’mere Al,” he’d said softly, dropping some food in the small cat bowl and rubbing on him for a minute before checking himself in the mirror again. His suntanned skin complemented his long brunet hair and bright blue eyes well. He was a heartbreaker in high school. Never dated much in high school though he was the guy to be in high school. He didn’t worry much about popularity, choosing to focus on baseball and the farm. His face was slender, attractive. His muscles were built from years of hard labor and summer workouts with the baseball team. His eyes were the kind of blue that put the sky to shame, and the ocean couldn’t dream of competing with them either. They were their own special shade of cerulean and sky blue. His nose was long and just crooked enough to be considered cute. It fit in with the rest of his face perfectly and always scrunched when he smiled, showing off the dimples in his cheeks and chin. He was a bonafide country boy through and through, and he looked it, from his face and body all the way through to his accent and clothes.

  
Tonight, he donned his usual Wrangler dark wash jeans, the ones he only ever wore out somewhere nice. They hugged his ass in all the right places, but he didn’t much care for that. He just thought they were comfortable and nicer than his work jeans. On top, he’d settled on a red and black flannel with the sleeves rolled up just over his elbow, and of course, to finish off the look, his favorite pair of cowboy boots. They were old, leather and worn in, but they still looked nice. He never wore them out in the field. His father had taught him better. Bucky could hear the man’s voice every time he put them on.

  
“You take care of a good pair of boots...They’ll last for your great grandkids to wear ‘em, Buck.” Bucky wasn’t sure he believed that, but they had lasted since his eighteenth birthday when his Pop had gotten them for him. A whole decade later, and they still looked just as good as they did the first time he put them on, if only a little more worn.

  
With his hair, he decided on a half bun, just enough to keep his long hair out of his face. He never really cared much for the “Man Bun” craze, but he appreciated being able to work without his dark hair getting in his way, and he felt he looked better this way than he did with short hair. It helped keep his ears warm during the winter months which, even though it was the south, was still important come December when the temperatures would get below freezing.

  
Once he was content with his appearance, he looked over at his cat who was curled up on the couch. “You be good, Al. Better not be no broken lamps when I get home,” he threatened, though the fat cat honestly couldn’t care less for Bucky’s empty threats, and he showed exactly that by rolling over on his back for his human to pet him. Buck smiled and rubbed his belly for a second before leaving the house and climbing into his grey Ford F-150. He reached for the radio, turning on his Garth Brooks Greatest Hits CD and pulling out of his driveway to head towards the bar.

  
It was a little after ten when Bucky finally relented that his date had stood him up. He wasn’t exactly surprised, but it never did hurt any less when that kind of thing happened. He sat at the bar, nursing his beer as the other men danced and made out on the floor behind him. It never was his kind of scene, but it was one of the only places he felt like he could truly be himself without fear of someone from his childhood seeing him. That itself made the forty-five minute drive out here plus the fifteen dollar parking and eight dollar beer worth it. Just a few minutes where he didn’t have to hide himself was enough for him. Besides, he had to admit he was getting some pretty good views. Some twinks grinding on each other, couple of buffer guys practically already fucking in the back, but there was one guy in particular who grabbed Bucky’s attention. He was tall, muscular, blond, and Bucky, God bless him, was trying so hard not to stare.

  
The man laughed at something his friend had said, and Buck could have sworn his heart skipped a beat at the sight only because he couldn’t hear the sound of it over the music. He was sure if he had, he’d have been a goner. He sat there, observing the man as he talked to his (boy?)friend and the thought made Bucky’s heart break. Surely this man was taken. No guy looking that damn perfect would be in a place like this without someone to take home. The thought left Bucky resigned and he shook his head, turning back to his beer. He should just finish and go home to Alpine. He knows that. Just chalk up the night to a failure and head home to his hand. And he would. He’d decided that much...He just...needed to finish his beer first. And if it...lasted until the blond guy got close enough for Bucky to talk to him...well, that was just the way fate worked, wasn’t it?


	2. I Wanna Grow Something Wild And Unruly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said cowboy take me away.  
> Fly this boy as high as you can into the wild blue.  
> Set me free, oh, I pray.  
> Closer to heaven above and closer to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an idea that’s been floating around in my head for a while and I finally got to putting it on paper so here she is. All places described are based on real places in my own small town or the city I grew up near. I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

“Sam, I told you, I don’t want to go to one of those stupid gay honky-tonk bars. It’s my last year of school. I just want to study, pass the bar, and get out of this shithole state,” Steve shouted as he poured over his textbook for his Federal Courts class, writing notes and highlighting section after section on appeals and infamous trials he’d need to have memorized. Late August meant school was already in full swing, and even if it wasn’t Steve had been busting his ass all summer in preparation for the bar exam he’d be taking in December.

“Steve, I’ve already told you. It’s our last night before school really starts to buckle down. Besides, you’ve been studying all summer. Stop acting like Mr. New York big shot and come get a drink with me! You’re going. So stop studying and get in the shower!” Sam was Steve’s best friend. They’d met when they were first-year law students a Vanderbilt. Steve had actually had a bit of a crush on Sam, and they’d made out once at a party, but neither of them ever felt the sparks. They’d been best friends ever since and honestly, they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Sam had grown up in Atlanta, Georgia. His family had been so proud of him when he’d gotten into Vandy, and his mom was always bragging to the other nurses at the hospital where she worked that her son was going to be a big-time lawyer. Being black, southern, and gay hadn’t been easy for Sam. He had wound up stuck in the closet until college, but once he’d told his mother, she has simply smiled in her usual kind, understanding way. “Sammy, I’m your mama. You think I didn’t know? I’m just glad you finally felt comfortable enough to tell me.” Darlene Wilson had raised him on her own to be a strong, smart, caring man. He truly had come from nothing and had worked his ass off to get to where he was.

Steve, on the other hand, had pretty much the complete opposite life experience in every way. He’d had everything handed to him since he was born. His father, Joseph was a highly demanded defense attorney in New York with his own practice while his mom, Sarah, had been a stay at home mother. She raised Steve into a strong, responsible, and hardworking man. Sure, the boy had money, but he still was respectful. He knew the value of hard work, and surprisingly, didn’t put much stock into the partying atmosphere that often surrounded kids of his stature. In fact, he tended to take life too seriously. That’s why he was so lucky to have Sam. His best friend balanced him out well. They kept each other focused, and Sam reminded Steve it was okay to have fun once in a while.

In contrast to Sam’s sweet loving mother’s reaction to his coming out, Steve had, once again had quite the opposite experience. Sarah, of course, didn’t have a mean bone in her body, so when her ten-year-old son had come to her crying about the confusing feelings he’d been having for another boy in his class, she’d simply kissed his forehead and explained to him that sometimes boys liked girls and sometimes boys liked boys and other times boys liked boys and girls and that was okay. Whatever Steve had been feeling, Sarah made sure he knew it was all okay. Still, she knew Joseph better than that and had warned the young blond that not everyone thought it was okay when boys liked other boys, and that his father might not be too keen on the idea. “He just doesn’t understand love the way you and I do, Stevie. Grandpa Rogers instilled a very strict set of values in him. Your dad and I disagree on a lot, but that’s okay, too. We still love each other and we love you, too. Very much. Your dad is a good man, Stevie. He just doesn’t always understand feelings like you and I do. He’s not as sensitive as we are. Still, you need to understand that just because your father and I may have different opinions on things doesn’t mean that we don’t love each other or you. People that love each other need to have differences or they’ll just bore each other to death,” she’d said, causing the young Steve to giggle. They’d decided together not to tell Joseph about Steve’s feelings for his classmate and that had been the right choice for a long time. That was until Joseph had caught Steve in bed with his father’s nineteen-year-old intern when he was just seventeen himself. His father had responded by shutting the door, and when Steve had tried to apologize later that evening, Joseph had pretended that he had no idea what Steve was talking about. That’s the way it went from then on. They ignored it. Joseph didn’t treat Steve any differently, and maybe he didn’t agree with his son’s sexuality, but he didn’t love him any less for it. They simply...ignored it. As long as Steve kept up his studies and did all that was expected of him, Joseph Rogers really couldn’t care less what Steve got up to at night or who he got up to it with. Steve didn’t mind it much either. He’d had his mother’s blessing, and she was the most important person in the world to him.

Sarah was the one who encouraged Steve to move away. “Explore the world while you’re young, Stevie. Who knows. You may just find yourself along the way.” So that’s what he did. He moved down to Nashville, Tennessee for law school, and as much as he felt the south wasn’t for him, Steve had to admit, he liked being independent of his parents. The place he shared with Sam was perfect for the two of them. They lived in a small apartment out on West End Avenue in Nashville just off Vanderbilt’s campus. It was a much nicer apartment than most kids their age could afford because Steve’s trust fund paid for it and then some. The living room was stocked with nice, expensive but comfortable furniture. The couch was brand new, deep brown leather with massagers in the seats and the coffee table was glass with a base almost as dark as the couch. The rest of the decor was highlighted with blues and greens for pops of color from the throw pillows to the abstract painting Steve had done himself and hung on the wall. It was comfortable and close to Centennial Park as well as all the local restaurants and bars Steve and Sam frequented including the one they were headed to tonight.

His bedroom was covered in deep shades of navy and white. It was calming. A perfect oasis after a long day of classes. Steve had artistic taste, and not only when it came to interior design. The art in his room was painted and drawn by him. While he loved the law, art was his passion. While his mother had nurtured that artistic ability in him, his father had made it very clear that it was only to be a hobby. “Painting won’t pay the bills, Steven. You need an education.” He could hear his father’s disapproving voice every time he finished a piece. He’d pushed his love for art aside and focused on what he needed to. Law. It was his only way to keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to.

“Just a couple of drinks and then we’ll go home and you can study your life away! Promise! You need a damn life anyway!” Sam had said as he watched Steve pull on a royal blue button-up with a pair of black slacks. The blond simply rolled his eyes. Sam was right though, and Steve knew it. In the three years they’d known each other, Sam could count on one hand the number of guys Steve had been involved with. It was pathetic in his opinion. Steve was hot. Hotter than most guys around campus, and he was too focused on his studies to look up and see the men around him. He understood why, of course, he knew that as much as Steve said it didn’t bother him, Joseph’s opinion on his son’s sexuality meant a lot to Steve. Sam knew the boy would do anything to fit into his father’s perfect life, and it broke his heart. Steve was such a good guy. A sweet, loving man who would make anyone a lucky boyfriend. He just wanted to see his best friend happy. That was all he truly cared about when it came to Steve.

Sam watched as Steve slipped on a pair of shoes before grabbing his wallet and phone. His style was very New York chic. It wasn’t his fault. He had attended New York fashion shows since he was a kid. He knew how to dress and what complimented his complexion and blue/green eyes well. Sam, bless him, hadn’t inherited the gay style gene, and was lucky he had Steve to help him. The taller man helped Sam pick out a green polo and some jeans for the night. It wasn’t much longer before they were out the door.

Tribe was the boys’ favorite of the gay bars in Nashville. There weren’t many, and all of them were on a little strip called Church Street, which Steve found absolutely hilarious in the most ironic of ways. “Only in the south,” he’d said the first time Sam had dragged him out to the place. The bible belt wasn’t really a place Steve wanted to spend any length of time, but Vanderbilt had one of the best law schools in the country so he’d ended up in Nashville, Tennessee for the last few years until he could graduate, pass the bar and move back home. This small city was just a stepping stone for him. That was the plan. He was going to take over his father’s practice back in New York as soon as he was able to. Join the Rogers’ family business of helping criminals out of jams. It wasn’t the most morally rewarding job, but it certainly was very monetarily rewarding, and really, what more could Steve ask for?

He wasn’t one who was obsessed with money. Really, he wasn’t, but he understood the value, and he was a bit of a realist. Sure, all of that “you can’t buy happiness” shit was cute and even somewhat true to a certain extent, but Steve found that he was happiest with a roof over his head and rare filet on his plate and those things cost money, so really…maybe you could buy a bit of happiness.

They’d only been there for about an hour when Steve leaned over to Sam. “Let’s just go, man. I’m wasting so much study time.”

“Steve, I swear if you mention studying again, I’ll punch you myself. Have a fucking drink, man. Seriously.” Steve had only rolled his eyes in response but ended up getting one anyway. Then another. And another, and before he knew it, he was more than a little tipsy.

“Alright, alright,” Steve slurred about an hour later, hanging on Sam’s shoulder. “You have to look at from the defendant’s perspective though...What if he really didn’t do it?”

“Steve..It’s OJ SIMPSON. HE DID IT, MAN!” It was always this way. Even drunk, the two would argue cases. And usually, this particular case would come up. Sam was on the fast track to being one of the best prosecutors around, and Steve...well, he’d follow his father’s footsteps as a defense attorney. It was the family business after all. Soon enough, he’d be part of Rogers and Son Attorneys at Law just like his father and grandfather before him.

“Look, I’m not saying he didn’t. I’m just saying you gotta look at it from a different perspective. That’s all defense is. It’s not about if he did it or not. It’s about getting your client off any way you can!”

“There are some guys in this place I’d like to get off any way I can.”

“SAM! C’mon man!” Steve’s laugh couldn’t be heard over the music, but the sight of it had caught the eye of a brunet across the bar, and he was shamelessly staring now. Steve, of course, didn’t notice, but Sam...This was Sam’s specialty. He could spot a guy interested in himself or Steve from a mile away.

“Looks like the cowboy at the bar wants to get you off any way he can,” he said which earned him another laugh and a punch to the shoulder from Steve.

“I’m not here to pick up guys, Sam. I’m here to tell you that if it doesn’t fit, you must acquit!”

“IT’S LEATHER, STEVE. IT SHRINKS WHEN IT’S DRENCHED IN BLOOD!” but despite Steve’s earlier statement, he’d finally locked eyes with the cowboy Sam had pointed out and he hadn’t heard a word Sam had said. His smile fell when his eyes locked onto those bright blue ones. “Steve?” Sam’s voice echoed in his head, but Steve was a million miles away now. Wherever this guy was, Steve wanted to be there too. His flannel hugged his muscles in all the perfect places, and that half bun he was rocking had Steve weak in the knees. He wanted to know everything about this man. Needed to know every inch of skin that shirt was covering. Ached to hear what kind of sounds he would make when Steve had his lips wrapped tightly around his...well, that wasn’t a very gentlemanly thought especially considering Steve didn’t even know the man’s name. He may have been a Yankee, but his mother had raised him to be a gentleman regardless. He needed to get ahold of himself. “Steve!” Sam’s voice was a distant memory as Steve’s feet carried him across the bar faster than he’d even realized what had happened. Once he’d made his way to the brunet man, he simply smirked and sat next to him.

“Buy me a drink?” he asked sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic title, as well as the chapter titles, are from the song Cowboy Take Me Away by the Dixie Chicks. Please comment if you want and feel free to follow me on twitter as well @capwinterspidey for more Stevebucky content. Finally thanks to Jess and Jas for being my beta, Rae for liking all my tweets as soon as I post them, and Lysa for being so supportive. Also, special shoutouts to the Oldies group chat and the Crackheads group chat for always keeping me entertained. Love y’all.


	3. On a Pillow of Blue Bonnets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said cowboy take me away.  
> Fly this boy as high as you can into the wild blue.  
> Set me free, oh, I pray.  
> Closer to heaven above and closer to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an idea that’s been floating around in my head for a while and I finally got to putting it on paper so here she is. All places described are based on real places in my own small town or the city I grew up near. I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

“Not much of an opening line, but I’ll bite. Whatcha drinkin’?” Bucky asked, his southern accent dripping with such a sweetness it made Steve bite his lip.

“Sex on the Beach...but I’m hoping to try the real thing later,” he said and was taken aback at the other man’s laughter.

“Okay, better on the line, but come on. You call that fruity shit a drink?” he asked before turning to the bartender. “Two Double Jack and cokes. On the rocks,” he said, looking back over at the blond. “I’m Bucky,” he said, sticking his hand out, when Steve stared at it, he leaned over. “You’re supposed to shake it,” he whispered in Steve’s ear, noticing the way the blond shivered a bit. This college kid may have thought he was smooth, but he didn’t fool Bucky. The brunet could tell the other had never had a man. Or, at least not a  _ real _ man to show him any attention. “How old are you, Blondie?” he asked when the man finally shook his hand.

“Steve,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “And I’m twenty-four.” His posh, northern voice not surprising Bucky one bit. No one was from around here anymore. It broke Bucky’s heart. 

“Where ya from?”

“New York.”

“Makes sense.”

“Excuse me?”

Bucky smirked then. He’d hit a nerve. “Well, this is a gay honky-tonk in downtown Nashville, and you’re dressed like life is a fucking fashion show, which let me be clear...I’m not saying I’m not enjoying the view,” he said, winking at Steve as he brought his drink to his lips. “But, facts are facts. And the fact is, your outfit looks like it costs more than my truck, and you definitely don’t have a damn thing about you that says ‘southern’ so it makes sense. Let me guess. New York City boy, wanted his own adventure, watched Luke Perry in 8 Seconds once and decided you had a thing for cowboys, but you’re too much of a city boy to really commit to that, so you chose Vanderbilt because you clearly have money and everyone who goes to Vandy has money and loves to talk about just how much money they have, and based on the clean-cut look you got going...which, again, let me be clear...I’m  _ very _ into, I’d say...Med school?... But no, you’re too defensive for that, so law. How’d I do?”

Steve was stunned, and a little offended. Still, the man had expressed his attraction more than once, so Steve had to admit his interests were piqued. “Actually, it was George Strait in True Country,” he challenged, much to Bucky’s surprise. Still, the older man called his bluff.

“No, it wasn’t.”

Steve paused before laughing. “No, it wasn’t, but can you blame me? Luke Perry was gorgeous in that movie...Though, not quite as gorgeous as you.”

Bucky snorted. “Again with the lines? Really?”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying. You gonna let me guess your life story, too?”

“I ain’t gonna stop ya,” he said, taking another drink from his glass. Steve thought for a moment.

“Born and raised just outside of town...on a farm. You got big hands. I’m gonna go ahead and guess that you work with them,”  _ And if that’s true...damn would I like to see what those hands could do to me _ . He added mentally before continuing. “Broad shoulders which could just be from all the heavy lifting you do, but I’m guessing it originated with sports, and since this is the south, I’ll say...football. Linebacker, maybe?”

“I’m gay,” Bucky reminded him.

“Right, so wrestling then.” Bucky snorted again, and Steve frowned. “Hey, I didn’t do that to you!”

“You were too stunned by my accuracy to do that to me,” he said simply, finishing off his drink before ordering another. Steve grumbled something about being too turned on to do that to him. Bucky only grinned and pretended not to hear him.

“So, Basketball then.” Bucky held his tongue and reaction and Steve continued. “Went to high school. Face like that...probably had all the girls crushing on you, but you’d rather date the quarterback, so you kept your head down...I’m guessing you had some scholarship to play college sports at some nobody college, but you got hurt your senior year...your knee. Maybe your shoulder. Whatever it is, it acts up when it rains and so you stayed home and took care of the farm and you’re perfectly happy with your simple farm boy life and secretly miserable living in some shithole small town, thinking you’re better than us city boys.”

Bucky was quiet for a long time, and Steve let his smile turn smug. He’d won.

“It was baseball, actually, and I did get a scholarship, but I didn’t go. Not because I got hurt. My ma got diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. Fortunately...or unfortunately, wasn’t cancer that killed her. She and Pa were driving home one night after a chemo treatment and got hit by a semi, so even if I had gone to college, I would have had to quit to come care for the farm.”

“I’m- I’m sorry. About your parents. That must have been really rough.” Steve interrupted. Bucky waved him off and half-smiled.

“Long time ago,” he quipped, taking another sip of his drink. “Oh, and I am happy with my ‘simple farm boy life.’ You couldn’t pay me to live with all this traffic. Definitely not secretly miserable. So...What is that? Two out of ten? Not so bad. Good job, Kid. You need to work on your people reading skills, but you’ll get there.”

Steve was stunned and to be honest, a little pissed at how cocky this guy was. If it didn’t turn him on so much, he’d have walked away and gone back to Sam.  _ Sam _ . He gave a glance back at his friend who was watching the two of them and smirking.

“If you got a boyfriend, you should go back to him. I’m not looking for trouble from a couple of kids,” Bucky said, noticing the way Steve was looking back at someone.  _ For  _ someone.

“Huh? Oh. Sam? No, no. Sam’s my roommate. He’s my best friend. We’re not- We don’t-” he was cut off by Bucky’s laughing.

“You’re really going all-in on this, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“All the guys in this bar and you’re really going to stick with me?”

“You’re the most gorgeous guy in this bar.”

Bucky snorted. “You really need to work on your pick up lines.”

“It’s not a pick-up line. It’s just an observation.”

“What do you want?” Bucky asked, looking over at Steve. Steve looked at Bucky, taken aback.

“I- I don’t-”

“I’m not insulting you, and I’m not trying to get you to go away. It’s just- you said you’re twenty-four. There are plenty of attractive twenty-four year old-”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Okay, well maybe I’m sick of the same issues with the other early-to mid-twenties guys around this town. Besides, look around. You can’t tell me you’re not more attractive than any of the guys in this bar.” Bucky shrugged and Steve laughed. “Oh my God. You don’t think you’re hot, do you?” 

“It isn’t that-”

“Then what is it?” Bucky didn’t respond. He simply took another swig of his drink. Steve smiled and took a sip of his own drink. “Come dance with me.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You do tonight,” Steve replied, taking Bucky’s hand, but he jerked away.

“I said no. You should go.”

Steve finished his drink before standing. “One dance, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Why don’t we just cut to the chase and go fuck in the bathroom?” Bucky asked, only half-joking. Steve stared at him.

“Well...I’d be open to that, too,” he admitted, turning red.

“Go home, Kid,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. Steve couldn’t help the kicked puppy look on his face.

“Right. Look, I’m sorry if I bothered you. I just- thought you were hot. Wanted to talk to you. I’ll leave you alone.” He smiled at Bucky. “Thanks for the drink,” he said, dropping a ten-dollar bill on the bar before walking away. The brunet shouldn’t feel as guilty as he did. Really, he shouldn’t even think twice. He was too old for this kid. He knew that, but he did feel guilty, and he probably would have gone on to feel guilty if he didn’t look down at that ten-dollar bill only to see what wasn’t a ten-dollar bill at all. The kid had laid down his napkin that had been under his drink.  _ When had he even picked the napkin up? _ Bucky thought to himself as he looked at it. There, written in ink was a little message.

_ If you change your mind about that dance, text me. _

_ (212) 555-5555. _

_ Talk to you soon, _

_ Steve. _

_ P.S. Sex in the bathroom is also a great excuse to text me. _

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He shook his head, paid for both of the drinks and stood, getting ready to leave. Steve was back at his table with Sam by then and he watched with a grin as Bucky walked away from the bar, paused, turned back, and stuffed the napkin in his pocket before leaving the bar without a glance at Steve.


	4. Cowboy Take Me Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said cowboy take me away.  
> Fly this boy as high as you can into the wild blue.  
> Set me free, oh, I pray.  
> Closer to heaven above and closer to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an idea that’s been floating around in my head for awhile and I finally got to putting it on paper so here she is. All places described are based on real places in my own small town or the city I grew up near. I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

It was two weeks later before Bucky actually picked up his phone to text Steve Rogers, and it wasn’t without trying to hold off even longer. The first week he didn’t think at all about that blonde hair or the way those muscles bulged out of the shirt he was wearing that night at the bar.

He worked on the farm, harvesting corn and laying hay for the maze he’d have for the kids come October. He often opened the farm up to families for the fall, letting kids pick out pumpkins and giving hayrides. Just five dollars a family. It wasn’t about the money. Bucky just liked to see the little kids struggling to pick up the biggest pumpkin they could find. It took a lot of prep on the farm, but it was worth it. He enjoyed giving back to the community, and he’d always liked kids.

After a long week of prepping the farm for the big October opening in a few weeks, he still hadn’t gotten laid, and he was starting to get restless. He went out again that next Saturday night. Still in downtown Nashville, as there weren’t any other places with gay bars anywhere near him and it wasn’t long before he locked eyes with a redheaded stranger from across the room. Bucky never caught the guy’s name. Alex maybe? Adam? He really didn’t know. Didn’t care either. It wasn’t his name Bucky was interested in, and after a few drinks they’d wound up back at the guy’s apartment. A small high rise just off 8th Ave in The Gulch that Bucky felt was too nice for him to be in. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking to stay past an orgasm or two. It was a bit of a rush, clumsy and awkward. “Have you ever done this before?” the guy had asked.

Bucky just stared at him. “Hooked up? Or hooked up with a guy?” he replied, almost afraid of the answer.

“Nothing. Nevermind. Just help me get these off.”

It was all Bucky needed to hear before he was tugging the redhead's pants off.

The sex wasn’t great. It wasn’t really even good, and it was confusing the hell out of Bucky. It wasn’t even that...Andrew? (Bucky still wasn’t sure of his name. Did it even start with an A?) was bad. He just wasn’t into it. He’d tried. He really had, but every time he closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but see this smirky, cocky, blond kid in his head. It frustrated him. What was it about this entitled...ass that had Bucky so consumed? He decided not to think anymore about it, waited until Aaron was asleep, and snuck home to Alpine and his own bed.

The next week wasn’t any better. Any time he had a quiet moment, Bucky found his thoughts drifting back to Steve. On Tuesday he’d pulled his wallet out at Finch’s to buy a six-pack and when he opened it, the little note had fallen out onto the counter. Bucky snatched it up before anyone could read it and stuffed it into his pocket. Once he was back in his truck, he sighed, opening the note and staring at it. The handwriting was sprawled and shaky against the napkin. He wasn’t going to text this kid. Bucky didn’t know what it was about the kid that had him so...flustered lately, but he wouldn’t give in. He was eight years older than this guy. He wasn’t looking for some kid to fool around with. He wasn’t going to text him. Definitely not.

He made it another three days before he finally cracked. Friday night found Bucky Barnes pacing in his living room, Alpine watching him with the occasional thump of his tail against the couch in protest of the fact that his human wasn’t petting him. _Maybe just a text. A good lay. What’s the harm?_ Of course, Bucky knew even before he sent that first text that it would be a great harm. The fact that he hadn’t been able to keep the kid out of his head in two weeks told him that much, but maybe if he just ignored it...Maybe then it wouldn’t really be as big of a deal.

> **Bucky Barnes** (7:14pm)
> 
> _This is Steve, right?_

* * *

“He isn’t going to text you, Steve let it go!” Sam had been watching his best friend check his phone every five minutes for the last week and a half. “You talked to the guy at a bar once and you even said he wasn’t interested.”

“He’s just playing hard to get. He’ll text me. He just wants me to sweat it out. Wait around by the phone. Guys like that want all the power. That’s all it is. He thinks I’m just going to be sitting by the phone waiting for him to message me. Like I don’t have better things to do.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

Sam ducked just in time to miss the pillow being chucked at his head.

The truth was, by the time that text came through on Friday night, Steve had pretty much given up on the gorgeous Bucky Barnes. It hurt his ego, but he’d been rejected before, and he’d be rejected again he was sure. In fact, he was so not upset about it, that he’d actually decided he was going to study tonight and not just lay on the couch watching Netflix and moping like he had the rest of the nights this week. Of course, Sam still saw this as him moping, but what did Sam know anyway?

“Come out with me, Steve. Find a different guy and quit being hung up on some guy you met once at a bar who wasn’t even interested.”

“He was interested,” Steve mumbled, which only earned him an eye roll from his best friend.

“If he was interested, he would have texted you. Now, come on. Let’s go-” He was cut off by Steve’s text tone. The boys stared at the phone and then each other. “Well?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

“I can’t look. I can’t do it. You look.”

“Steve. Pick up your damn phone. It’s probably your mom.”

“Fuck you, Sam. It’s- OH MY GOD IT’S A LOCAL NUMBER. IT’S HIM.”

It took Sam ten minutes to get Steve to calm down enough to even read the message and another five to actually reply.

> **Steve Rogers** (7:32pm)
> 
> _This is he. Who’s this?_

> **Bucky Barnes** (7:33pm)
> 
> _Bucky? From the bar a couple weeks ago._

> **Steve Rogers** (7:35pm)
> 
> _Who?_

> **Bucky Barnes** (7:35pm)
> 
> _Funny._

> **Steve Rogers** (7:36pm)
> 
> _I’ll have you know I have several suitors. I can’t possibly keep up with random ones who take two weeks to text me back._

> **Bucky Barnes** (7:38pm)
> 
> _That so? Well, forgive me. Let me make it up to you._

> **Steve Rogers** (7:38pm)
> 
> _How are you planning on doing that?_

> **Bucky Barnes** (7:40pm)
> 
> _Let me take you out. Like an adult. No clubs. No dancing. No fucking in the bathroom._

> **Steve Rogers** (7:43pm)
> 
> _Sounds boring._

> **Bucky Barnes** (7:44pm)
> 
> _I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7._

> **Steve Rogers** (7:44pm)
> 
> _Who said I was interested anymore?_

> **Bucky Barnes** (7:45pm)
> 
> _I’m good at reading people, remember?_

> **Steve Rogers** (7:47pm)
> 
> _Fine. I live off West End. I’ll send you my location._

> **Steve Rogers** (7:48pm)
> 
> _What do I wear?_

> **Bucky Barnes** (7:49pm)
> 
> _It’s just dinner, Steve. Don’t overthink it._

* * *

Steve would definitely overthink it. He tried on seven different shirts and made Sam help him with every single one. Nothing fit right. Nothing was good enough for the handsome...god of a man who would be at their door in thirty minutes.

“Steve. Just pick a shirt. It’s just dinner. You’re freaking out and it’s freaking me out.” Sam said, laying upside down on the blond’s bed. It took another fifteen minutes before Steve finally settled on a grey button-up with black pants. He looked good. More like he was going on a business meeting than a date, but he was a New Yorker after all, and he never got into the casual scene of Nashville’s fashion sense. It wasn’t too much longer before there was a knock at his door and Sam gave his best friend a thumbs up before running in his own bedroom and hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finished my AU on Twitter, go check it out if you want to read it, I'll link the thread here.  
> https://twitter.com/CapWinterSpidey/status/1142535135755231238  
>  It is also Stevebucky, but the point of mentioning it is that it means my spare time will no longer go to that and I'll be updating more regularly on this fic. I've already started chapter 5 and I hope to have it up by the end of the week. I hope you guys are all enjoying!


	5. Set Me Free, Oh I Pray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said cowboy take me away.  
> Fly this boy as high as you can into the wild blue.  
> Set me free, oh, I pray.  
> Closer to heaven above and closer to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!

When Steve answered the door, Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight he saw. Bucky was standing in his doorway in jeans and a flannel shirt, and Steve looked...well, far too nice for the date he’d had planned. “H- Hi,” Steve stuttered. Bucky had only chuckled in response.

“You really don’t know the first thing about Nashville, do you? Is this how city boys up north dress for a simple dinner date?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked Steve up and down. It was a jerk thing to say, but Bucky hadn’t meant offense, and the way Steve blushed and looked away had the older man feeling extremely guilty. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” He stopped and smiled at Steve. “You look great. Really.”

He watched as Steve bit his lip and stared at the ground. The blond seemed nervous, almost...unsure of himself. The sight made Bucky’s heart squeeze uncomfortably. “I can change. If you just give me a minute,” Steve said in a voice that made Bucky’s heart ache.

“No! Please, don’t. You’re perfect!” he said, making sure to clock the way Steve’s cheeks turned a brighter pink. He’d have to keep in mind how cute the younger male looked when he was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I just- I wasn’t expecting you to look so...beautiful,” he tried again, smiling when Steve blushed harder. Success.

“Now you’re just trying to butter me up,” Steve murmured, shaking his head and grinning.

“Is it working?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You ready?”

Steve nodded and then they were off. Bucky showed his true southern gentleman charm as he opened every door for Steve, offered control of the music and air conditioning in his truck which the other declined, and avoided any other comments that may have offended Steve. The younger man really did look gorgeous. Bucky couldn’t help but stare at him every chance he got. As they drove, Bucky hummed along to Check Yes or No by George Strait.

“The place we’re going to. It’s great. Some of the best hot chicken in the city.”

Steve made a face. “Hot chicken?” he asked, obviously confused. Bucky stared at him, his mouth agape.

“You’ve never had Nashville Hot Chicken?” he asked, turning to look at him again once they hit a red light. Steve just shook his head.

“Man, you really are from the north,” Bucky said, shaking his head. He grinned though. “You’ll love it. It’s like...buffalo wings, but better and hotter. Served on toast. The trick is, after the chicken is gone, you gotta eat the toast after it’s been soaking in the sauce. It’s amazing. Nashville specialty.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to it then,” Steve said, smiling back at Bucky. He realized he was quickly becoming a bit of a sucker for that soft, unsure smile.

They arrived at the restaurant that looked more like a barn. The sign had a chicken wearing a party hat and said _Party Fowl_. Steve chuckled. 

“Clever,” Steve had mumbled upon seeing the sign.

“What was that?” Bucky had asked, and Steve blushed again.

“The pun. Party Fowl. It’s clever.”

“Oh, yeah. It is,” Bucky said, trying not to feel awkward. He hated first dates. They were always so uncomfortable. He gave his keys to the valet before walking to the passenger side door and helping Steve out. As they walked inside, Bucky smiled. He ate here often. It was one of his favorite restaurants in the city. 

The restaurant was decorated in blue and gold, representing Nashville’s professional hockey team, the Predators. Usually, on game nights, the bar was filled to capacity with fans cheering loudly for their team, but Bucky was a fan, and he knew that tonight there wasn’t a game, and it was part of the reason he’d picked the night to begin with.

As they were taken to their table, he noticed the way Steve looked around with wonder and confusion. “Not a hockey fan I guess?” Bucky asked, smiling as he picked up the menu.

“I don’t know anything about it. I don’t really get the obsession. You guys go crazy for it down here. I always thought football was the south’s favorite sport.”

“It is, usually. But the Titans are terrible,” Bucky said, shaking his head and laughing, alluding to Nashville’s National Football League team. “The Preds are actually good, so when September hits in Nashville...It’s Hockey season until June,” he explained, smirking. “Maybe one day we’ll go to a game,” he suggested. Steve made a face.

“Not my thing,” he said simply. Bucky only shrugged, not pushing further on the subject, though he added a strike against Steve for his unwillingness to pretend to be interested.

“What are you interested in then?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over the menu. He wasn’t going to drink. He didn’t know how Steve felt about alcohol, and he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by getting in the car with him even if it was only one drink.

“Honestly? I’m kind of a shut it. I study a lot,” he said, shrugging. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on. I know you got something better than that. What do you like to do?”

Steve hesitated before answering. “I like art. Drawing. Painting. That sort of thing.”

Bucky couldn’t hide his impressed expression. “Looking at it or creating it?”

“Both?”

“I’d love to see some of your work sometime,” the older man said, smiling softly.

“Oh no. It’s not really for...public consumption,” Steve said, shrugging. “Sam’s barely even seen any of my work. It’s really just...for fun. For me.”

“Well, maybe one day,” Bucky said, smiling as the waitress came over to take their orders.

The two talked small talk as they waited for their meals to come out. They’d both ordered the chicken tenders. Bucky had gone for the “Nashville Hot” sauce which was just below their hottest sauce titled “Poultrygeist” which Steve had giggled at for a solid five minutes before “wimping out” as Bucky had called it and ordering his tenders at mild. They ate in silence for a moment, commenting on how good the food was before Steve finally spoke up again.

“So, what’s the deal with you?” When Bucky just gave him a confused look, Steve continued. “You run a farm? Outside of the city? And you’re happy? Seriously?” There it was. Bucky frowned.

The older man was used to this. Part of him had even expected it with Steve, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t irritate him still. These city boys always thought they were better than him. They treated him as if his life couldn’t possibly be as fulfilling since he wasn’t wearing Tom Ford suits or Louboutin dress shoes. It made him sick.

“Yeah, actually I am. Very happy,” Bucky snapped, daring Steve to go on. The blond didn’t even notice. Strike two.

“I’m just saying, you’re out in the middle of nowhere. You’ve got what? Horses and stuff? Cows?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Well, do you even have wifi all the way out in the boonies like that?”

Bucky glared. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, and color TV too! It’s a miracle. Except I have to use the outhouse when I gotta use the bathroom. No indoor plumbing in the country,” he spat. Steve frowned.

“I didn’t mean any offense,” he started, shaking his head. “Just that, if you weren’t happy working all the time like that, you could just sell your farm. Move to the city. Get a real job.”

Strike three.

“A _real_ job?!” Bucky demanded, and Steve backtracked immediately.

“I didn’t mean it like-”

“I think that’s exactly how you meant it.”

“Bucky, I-”

“No, I think this date is over,” he said, catching the waitress’s attention. “Check please,” he said, and then Steve reached for his own wallet, and Bucky thought his head might explode. “If you pull out your wallet right now, I swear to God, I’ll leave you to order an Uber for yourself,” Bucky said, though he knew his threat was empty. He was a gentleman after all, even if he didn’t particularly think Steve had earned it after tonight. He watched as the blond pulled his hand away from his pocket.

“I was just trying to help.”

Bucky scoffed. “I don’t need your daddy’s money,” he spat, shaking his head. “I’m a goddamned adult. I can pay for my date’s meal. I may not live in a penthouse in the city, but I make do just fine, thanks,” he said, handing his card to the waitress. He was just ready to get out of this place and get home to Alpine. He clocked the hurt expression on Steve’s face but was thankful when the other said nothing. Bucky left a tip when he got his card back and then they left the restaurant in silence.

They stood awkwardly as the valet went to fetch their truck, and Bucky tipped him when he came back, not bothering to open Steve’s door for him this time. The ride back to Steve’s apartment was only ten minutes, but it felt like an hour. The air in the truck was tense, uncomfortable. Once Bucky stopped outside the apartment, Steve tried again.

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anythi-”

“Get out,” Bucky demanded, not looking at Steve.

“Bucky, I-”

“I don’t care about your apology. Save it. Get out.”

Steve sighed and hopped out of the truck. Bucky didn’t wait to see if he made it inside before he drove off. He’d dealt with guys like this his whole life. They had a little money, and suddenly they thought they were worth more than him. Than his family. It made Bucky sick. He didn’t need that. Especially not from some kid who didn’t know a John Deere from a Bobcat. At least now, Bucky didn’t have to spend any more time thinking about him, and he wouldn’t. As soon as he stopped being so mad about how the date had turned out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do my best to get the next chapter up quickly, but it's a busy week for me so it may not happen until next week. I'm sorry about the angst, but we're finally moving away from exposition and into plot. I'm shooting for somewhere between ten and fifteen chapters total for this fic, but I haven't decided yet exactly how many. I hope you all enjoyed and as always, please leave a kudos or comment if you liked this chapter and follow me on twitter @capwinterspidey!


	6. I Wanna Walk And Not Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said cowboy take me away.  
> Fly this boy as high as you can into the wild blue.  
> Set me free, oh, I pray.  
> Closer to heaven above and closer to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally one long chapter of what will make up 6&7 but, as I've been changing POVs each chapter, and I wanted to keep that theme here, but still wanted the next date in Bucky's POV (for reasons you'll see coming up in chapter 7) I decided to split the two up. Which means you get one short update during finals week. Yay you! And I will be hopefully writing and posting Chapter 7 later this week.

Steve laid on his bed, his head hanging off the foot of it as Sam sat at the head. “You don’t understand, Sam. It was-”

“You’ve said it ten times, Steve. Terrible.”

_ “Terrible _ ! I completely ruined it! I’m- I’m-”

“Horrible?”

“Horrible! I didn’t even  _ mean  _ to insult him. I mean, obviously I understand why it was so insulting. I’m not an idiot.”

“Of course not.”

“But I just meant that if he wasn’t-”

“If he wasn’t happy that you could help him. Steve! I got it. I can’t listen to this anymore. Just text the guy. If it is that dire for you, text him. Tell him all of this. Ask him for a second chance.  _ Something _ . Just please,  _ please _ stop telling me the same shit over and over again. It’s been thirty minutes and if I have to hear it one more time, I’m going to kick you off our balcony!”

The thing about Sam that Steve loved most was the way he was always the one to tell Steve the tough thing he needed to hear when he needed to hear it. Unfortunately, the thing about Sam that Steve hated most was also the way he was always the one to tell Steve the tough thing he needed to hear when he needed to hear it.

“I can’t just  _ text _ him! You don’t understand, Sam! He was so mad! It was-”

“I swear to god if you tell me it was horrible one more time, Steven Grant Rogers.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “Sorry,” he mumbled, looking down, and heard Sam sigh.

“Look, tell him you got off on the wrong foot. Say you’d really like a second chance. Ask if you can take him somewhere. Somewhere to get to know the real you. Take him to see that new exhibit at the Frist Art Museum you wanted to take me to see, but will never get around to because, according to you, don’t ‘get’ art. What was the guy’s name? J. M. Barrie?” Steve can’t help the loud laugh that escapes his lips.

“J. M. W. Turner, Sam. J. M. Barrie created Peter Pan.”

“I thought that was Walt Disney.”

The grin on his face makes it clear he was joking, but Steve throws a pillow at him anyway as his roommate makes his exit.

“I’m going to bed. Text him, Steve. Don’t be an idiot.”

_ Text him.  _ Sam made it sound so easy. Still, Steve pulled out his phone and opened the iMessage app on his iPhone 11 Pro Max. He didn’t even know what to say.

_ Hey  _ ? 

God no. Not after the disaster that date was. Maybe something a little more formal? 

_ Mr. Barnes. I’m very sorry for the way- _

“Mr. Barnes? What is he my eighth grade English teacher?” Steve huffed and deleted the message again. He thought for a moment before typing again.

_ Bucky. _

Okay. Not a bad start. Just his name. Not too informal. Not too professional. Direct, but not demanding. It had potential. He just wasn’t sure where to go from there.

_ The way the night went is something I deeply regret. _

Deeply regret? Who talks like that. Just be normal, Steve.

It took another hour and several drafts before he was finally able to hit send on a message that didn’t make him completely cringe.

**Steve Rogers (10:43 pm)**

_ Bucky, I’m really sorry about the way our date ended. I didn’t mean for the things I said to come across the way they did, though I completely understand how they sounded and why they were wrong to say anyway. I was hoping maybe you’d consider giving me a second chance? I realize I don’t deserve one, but I have tickets to the J. M. W. Turner exhibit at the Frist Art Museum, and Sam will never go with me. He doesn’t really get art. Anyway, I just thought, maybe if you were interested. Let me know? Thanks for dinner, too. I’m sorry I was such an asshole. _

Steve stared at his phone after hitting send, waiting to see those little white dots. Two minutes passed. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Who was he kidding? Bucky didn’t want to go to an art museum with him. He didn’t want to go anywhere with him. Why the hell would he? Steve sighed and tossed his phone on his bed, making his way to the bedroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. He came back to his bed after having changed into the shirt he slept in and saw he had one new message from Bucky. His heart skipped a beat.

**Bucky Barnes (11:06 pm)**

_ What if I don’t get it either? _

Steve smiled.

**Steve Rogers (11:14 pm)**

_ I have faith. Besides, you’re smarter than Sam. _

**Bucky Barnes (11:15 pm)**

_ Just not as happy. _

**Steve Rogers (11:16 pm)**

_ I deserve that. I’m really sorry. Give me a chance to prove I’m not the stuck up, rich asshole I made myself seem like I am tonight. Please? When are you free? _

**Bucky Barnes (11:19 pm)**

_ How about tomorrow afternoon? I’ll pick you up at two? _

Steve couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He grinned and responded quickly.

**Steve Rogers (11:19 pm)**

_ Two is perfect! Thank you! You won’t regret it! I promise! J. M. W. Turner is one of my favorites. _

**Bucky Barnes (11:20 pm)**

_ I don’t know who that is. _

**Steve Rogers (11:21 pm)**

_ I’ll teach you. _

**Bucky Barnes (11:22 pm)**

_ Goodnight, Steve. _

**Steve Rogers (11:23 pm)**

_ Goodnight, Bucky. _

Steve couldn’t help the squeal that left his lips as he tossed his phone on the bed and fell back against his pillows grinning.

“Go to sleep!” Sam yelled through the very thin walls of their apartment, but Steve couldn’t have cared less. He had a second date with Bucky. He plugged his phone up, turned out his lights, and lay in bed awake for hours thinking about the man he’d be seeing in just a few short hours. Sometime between three and four-thirty am, he finally fell asleep.

* * *

It was one fifty-eight when Steve heard the knock on the door, and sprinted to it, shoving Sam into his room. His roommate let out a loud yell in protest, but Steve had already made his way to the door and straightened himself in the mirror before opening it to reveal Bucky. Steve smiled, happy to see that their previous date hadn’t deterred Bucky from being himself as he stood before the younger man in his usual nice jeans, blue flannel button-up, and nice boots. “Am I dressed well enough?” Bucky asked. “I’ve never been to an art museum.” Steve could have sworn he heard an ounce of nerves in the man’s voice.

“You look perfect,” the blond replied, grinning at him. Steve donned his usual look as well, black slacks, dress shoes, and a light purple button up. The two didn’t look like they belonged together, but Steve didn’t mind. He was just grateful for another chance with Bucky.

“Thank you,” Bucky replied, smiling softly. “You’re quite stunning yourself,” he added, blushing a little before shaking his head. “You ready?” he asked quickly, and Steve noticed the quick change in the subject.

“Definitely,” he said, taking his arm in Bucky’s and walking out the door with him. This was going to be a good date. Steve was sure of it. He’d do whatever it took. Even if it killed him, and honestly, with the way Bucky looked, his hair pulled back and that flannel shirt bringing out his eyes and hugging his arms in all the right places...Steve thought it might do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thrive on Kudos and Comments. Thanks for reading! See you next time!


	7. I Wanna Skip And Not Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said cowboy take me away.  
> Fly this boy as high as you can into the wild blue.  
> Set me free, oh, I pray.  
> Closer to heaven above and closer to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in a week?! Wow, it must be Christmas break or something! This one is much, much longer to make up for how short the last update was. Also, forgive any mistakes. I've pretty much completely given up on betas. Because I'm lazy and impatient so. ANYWAY ENJOY!

If Bucky was honest, he really wasn’t sure why he even agreed to this date. The kid had insulted him pretty horrifically, and it didn’t just make him mad. It had...hurt him. He’d expected something like that. Steve was young, rich, and probably didn’t really understand what it was Bucky really did. Maybe that’s why he’d agreed to go out with him again. Maybe it was the fact that Steve had seemed actually interested in the art exhibit, and Bucky loved seeing people in their own elements. Maybe it was the fact that he’d tossed and turned all night after their date unable to get that blond-haired blue-eyed man out of his head. Whatever it was, it had led him here, once again helping Steve into his truck and letting him pick the music which Steve, once again, declined. So, Bucky settled on his usual 103.3 Country radio station and hummed along as they drove towards downtown.

“So, I googled this guy. Turner. He’s...interesting,” Bucky said after a few moments. The look Steve gave him had him backtracking almost immediately. “Sorry. Was I- Was I not supposed to do that?” he asked, biting his lip. 

“No! No, I’m glad you did! I just- I didn’t expect you to. I usually drag Sam to these things, and he just makes me give him the cliff notes version of what he needs to know about the artist,” he explained shrugging a little. “What’d you find out?”

“Well, I like to be informed,” Bucky said, smiling as he looked over at Steve. “I don’t really know anything about art, but Wikipedia said he was English and did watercolor and landscapes?” Bucky said, glancing at Steve for some form of approval.

“Yes! Exactly!” Steve grinned at Bucky, and the older man couldn’t help the way his heart tugged in fondness for the excited look on Steve’s face.

“And you like him a lot?” Bucky asked, gripping the steering wheel as he drove, focusing on the road.

“He’s one of my favorites. You’ll see when we get there. There’s so much... _ emotion _ and depth in his work. He painted what he saw. But through his own lens. It's beautiful. Unique. Completely stunning.”

Bucky listened intently to Steve and smiled. He liked this version of the man next to him. The one who talked about things he was passionate about without a care of what others thought about him. It was a side Bucky had only ever seen at this moment, but one he had already decided he wanted to see much,  _ much _ more.

“Well, I can’t wait to see it,” he said, grinning at Steve.

Before long they were pulling into the parking lot near the museum. Bucky got the lot ticket to put in his car so he could pay later, and they walked in together. He watched with interest as Steve plopped down the museum tickets at the box office and took a couple of maps. “I’ve only been here a couple of times,” Steve explained as they made their way through the entrance. “I’m still learning my way around the place. I had the MET memorized by age six. The Louvre I knew like the back of my hand by age ten,”

“Isn’t that the one in Paris?” Bucky asked, pulling some piece of information he thought he’d learned from an art history class back when he still thought he might be able to take community college courses and run the farm. He noticed the way Steve blushed.

“Y-Yes. Sorry. Was that- Did that come across as bragging? I didn’t mean for it to. My mother just...loves art. She would take me a lot growing up. It’s her favorite museum...Which I realize doesn’t sound any less like bragging. I’m sorry,” Steve said, shaking his head. Bucky just waved his hand and smiled.

“It’s okay. I understand what you mean. You’re- You’re really passionate about this. You’re not bragging. I know. Just...be yourself. We’re starting fresh, remember?” Bucky meant it. He wanted Steve to show him who he was. Wanted to start again and see if maybe they’d gotten off on a bad foot. From what he could tell, Steve, when he was surrounded by priceless works of art, was very different than when he was in his “lawyer” mode. Bucky liked this version of the blond much better.

“Right. Yes. Starting fresh. I like that...In that case..I might drag you through this place a little bit. Is that okay?”

Bucky grinned, held his hand out, and with his unmistakable southern accent spoke softly. “Drag away, Darlin’.”

Steve matched Bucky’s smile and took the older man’s hand in his before pulling him up the stairs, quite literally dragging him behind. Bucky laughed as he heard a middle-aged woman call to them to stop running but he was sure Steve didn’t hear a word. He was focused. Almost childlike, and Bucky...well, he  _ really _ liked this Steve.

The two men giggled as Steve pulled them up the stairs to the main floor and into the Ingram Gallery. Bucky watched as Steve’s eyes lit up at the room full of paintings. He wondered if the younger man had done research on what works would be here, or if he was just this excited as if he didn’t believe it was really real. His question was answered quickly when Steve pulled him to the painting closest to the door. It was dark. The only light source was from the moon in the upper center of the canvas. Bucky took it in, the clouds, the way the water seemed to move in waves. The boat in the center actually looked to be bobbing in the water. Bucky was taken aback at just how  _ good _ the work was, and for a second, he forgot Steve was even there.

“Fishermen at Sea,” Steve whispered, and Bucky looked over to see him grinning at the canvas. “It isn’t my favorite. I’ll save that one for last, but it’s beautiful, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered, turning back to the work. It was pretty, but even though Bucky didn’t have much experience with art, he still wasn’t sure if he understood why this particular painter had Steve so excited. After all, it was just a boat on the ocean. It was pretty, but hardly something worth the literal vibrating that Steve was doing next to him.

“See the strokes?” Steve asked. Bucky nodded, looking harder to try and see what Steve was seeing. “They’re deliberate. Every single stroke of his brush had a purpose. He’s telling a story with every ounce of paint he puts on the canvas.”

Bucky smiled politely, but he still didn’t see it. Steve must have noticed because before he knew it, the younger man was pulling him to the left. The next piece was watercolor on paper, and Bucky had to admit it was less interesting than the first one. He still wasn’t really understanding why Steve was so wrapped up in this artist. Surely  _ Starry Night _ was more profound in every way than this? Still, he listened to Steve as he talked Bucky through piece after piece. He talked about the work with words like  _ delicate _ ,  _ vibrant _ ,  _ stimulating,  _ and  _ absorbing _ . Bucky liked the way Steve talked about art, but he just didn’t get it. To him, it was just...scenes. Landscapes. Pictures of trees and the ocean. It was beautiful, sure. Even the country boy from Cheatham county could appreciate artistic beauty. Hell, he’d been staring at it for the last hour and a half, and it wasn’t the art he was talking about. Still, this. The actual paintings he’d been brought here to see just didn’t...click with him, and Steve noticed. Bucky could tell he was getting discouraged.

“Okay, let’s try this one,” Steve said finally after about four paintings had gone by.

“Steve, maybe this just isn’t my thing, I-”

“Just give it one more chance? Please? One more, then we’ll see my favorite one and then we can go if you want?” And well, how could Bucky say no when Steve looked at him with those big, beautiful blue eyes.

“Okay. Show me.”

Bucky laughed as he was pulled across the gallery again to another canvas. He looked at the piece, another oil on canvas titled  _ Grenoble from the River Drac with Mont Blanc in the Distance _ . Bucky liked the colors. The greens reminded him of his farm and he could almost smell the fresh grass and hear the water rushing from the river. Still, he sighed.

“I don’t get it, Stevie.” And Steve froze.

“Wh- What? What did you call me?” Bucky swallowed.

“I’m- I’m sorry. It just slipped I didn’t mean-”

“My Ma used to call me that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I-”

“I haven’t heard that nickname in years.”

“Steve, please, it just slipped. I didn’t mean anything-”

And then Bucky Barnes was being kissed.

It took the older man by surprise. His eyes popped wide open, but he melted into it quickly, his hands finding Steve’s sides and pulling him closer. It was only a moment later before Steve was pulling back, and Bucky couldn’t help the whine or the way he leaned in for more. Steve chuckled and blushed.

“Look at the art again.”

“I am looking at the art,” Bucky replied, his eyes still on Steve. The younger man blushed.

“Cheesy. I’m serious. Look at this one.” Bucky sighed but complied.  _ Anything for another kiss. _

Bucky stared at the art and shrugged. “Okay,” he said and started to turn back to Steve.

“No!” Steve said, taking Bucky’s head in his hands and gently turning back to face the canvas. “Tell me what you see.” The brunet smiled.

“I don’t know. A mountain. A river. Lots of green. I mean, it’s pretty, but it's not- I don’t know. Profound?” Steve simply laughed in response.

“You’re not  _ seeing  _ it. Look at it. Tell me what you  _ see _ .”

“I just did! I said-”

“You said what was on the canvas. Don’t just look at it with your eyes. What do you see with your heart? What do you  _ really _ see?”

Bucky’s face twisted in confusion for a moment before he took a deep breath. “Green,” he started. Steve grinned.

“Green.”

“Yeah. Green.”

“Green like…?”

Bucky hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should bring up the farm again. He didn’t want to argue with Steve. Didn’t want to give him another reason to think Bucky wasn’t happy or intelligent or whatever it was Steve thought about him. Still, Bucky was only ever completely, and unapologetically himself. So, he took a deep breath and shrugged. “It reminds me of the farm.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve smile.

“Go on.”

“The green on the mountain. It reminds me of the field. I have this horse. I call her Em. She’s- She’s my favorite I guess. But, I don’t say that out loud. I don’t want to hurt the others’ feelings,” he explained. Steve giggled at that and Bucky, took a chance, reaching an arm out and around the man’s neck, pulling him closer.

“Tell me more?”

“It’s bright. I can...Almost smell that fresh cut grass smell. Like the beginning of summer, ya know? And the sky. It reminds me of all the days I’d spend shucking corn with my mom, or fishing with my dad down at the river over at the park near my house. We went every summer. There was this hill by the river. I guess it’s still there. I haven’t been there in years, but it was always tall and green. Like this mountain, and we’d catch some fish for dinner, and then we’d run up the hill and I’d roll all the way down it. Nearly broke my arm once. Thought my momma would kill us both when I came in with it sprained. Put me out of work on the farm for the rest of the summer,” he said, laughing at the memory. “Didn’t stop us from going back and me rolling down that hill again the next year though,” he added, looking at Steve finally. The blond was smiling at him with the most beautiful smile Bucky had ever seen.

“That’s what I love about Turner. He doesn’t just paint what he saw. He paints what he saw in a way that reminds you of what you’ve seen. He puts you in places that were important to you by putting you in places that were important to him,” he explained. “Monet, Van Gogh...They’re brilliant. There’s a reason they’re the greats, but Turner...He does what I long to do with my art. Invoke emotion. Memories. Or well...What I longed to do. Don’t paint much anymore.”

“Why not?” Bucky asked, noticing how close their lips were now that he still had his arm wrapped around Steve’s neck. At some point, while Bucky had been speaking, Steve had slipped his own arm around Bucky’s waist.

“Too busy,” Steve whispered, staring at Bucky’s lips. “Gotta study.”

They stood there for a long moment, just looking at each other before Steve finally cleared his throat and pulled away. Bucky just mentally kicked himself for not kissing Steve again when he’d had the chance.

“I have one more piece I wanna show you.”

“Your favorite?”

“My favorite.”

This piece wasn’t on a canvas. Rather, it was another watercolor on paper. Bucky looked at it and smiled. He didn’t see what Steve saw, but he had a bit of insight. This piece put Steve somewhere personal, and Bucky was eager to learn what it was. The work was called  _ Small Boats beside a Man-o’-War _ . It was another water piece depicting, well, small boats next to a much larger warship. It was pretty, though Bucky thought the colors were rather bland. Lots of tans and browns showing the ocean and the boats. It was beautiful, Bucky could admit that. Still, he didn’t quite grasp what Steve saw.

“Tell me? The story? What you see?”

Steve only grinned and wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist again, resting his head on the older man’s shoulder before beginning. Bucky tried to ignore the way his heart skipped several beats. First at the contact, then at the story Steve told.

“When I was young, I was small. Born a month early. There were a lot of complications. It led to a lot of health issues growing up. I was much smaller than everyone my age. I couldn’t play sports. I had asthma, I was sick all the time. I caught every disease in the book. I was frail and half deaf. I had scoliosis. And a number of other issues. Honestly, I should have and almost did die several times. I was picked on constantly, but I-” he laughed then and shook his head. “I hated bullies. I got into more fights than I could count. Well, I wouldn’t really call them fights. I got my ass kicked more times than I could count. As I got older, things got worse health-wise. I decided I didn’t want to be so...fragile anymore. So, we went to doctors. We were lucky. We had the money. I was put on a specific diet. I got corrective surgery for my spine, they went in and fixed the blockage in my ears, I had grown out of my asthma, and my dad got me a personal trainer who followed me to NYU when I went to undergrad. I bulked up, got healthy, and eventually, I turned into the beefcake you see before you today,” he joked, and though Bucky laughed, he really couldn’t disagree with him. Steve looked up, lifting his head off the man’s shoulder, and this time, Bucky didn’t hesitate. He pushed forward, kissing Steve again slowly, only pulling back when he needed to breathe. They never deepened it. Didn’t need to. They both expressed everything they needed to in the simple touch of their lips. Steve grinned as they pulled back, and Bucky rested his forehead against Steve’s.

“The small ship reminds me of me. All the back alleys I got beat up in by the bigger ships. And it reminds me how far I’ve come. I’m a big ship now. I- I’m a Man o’ War and I’m studying law so I can help the little guys like me. That’s- That’s why it’s my favorite. It reminds me of who I am and where I came from, and why I’m doing all of this.”

Bucky bit his lip then because something about what Steve was saying didn’t quite sit right with him. “Why you’re doing all this?” he asked, looking at the blond.

“Yeah, I mean...I don’t know. I guess I just need a reminder as to why I’m working so hard sometimes ya know?”

Bucky did know. He understood, but Steve didn’t seem to need a reminder as to why he loved art so much. The thought made him curious. “How often do you need that reminder?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

“I know what you’re doing,” Steve laughed, shaking his head. “And I deserve it. I get it. You’re happy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. Really, I-”

“Stevie. I’m not implying anything. I’m asking.”

“Stop calling me that. It isn’t fair that you get to be this cute.”

“Answer my question, Darlin’.”

“Don’t call me that either!”

“Steve!”

“Fine! Fine!” Steve said, laughing as he took Bucky’s hand and pulled him to a nearby bench. They sat quietly for a moment before Steve finally spoke up. “It’s complicated. I don’t- I never really wanted to be a lawyer. My dad is one, and I- I mean, he wants me to follow in his footsteps, and it isn’t like I mind law school. Ya know? I mean, I like it. I’m thankful I met Sam, and that I’ve got a best friend now. I just...I don’t know. I wanted to help people like... _ that _ .” He said, pointing to the art on the wall. “I wanted to make people feel things like what you were telling me about the other piece. That’s- that’s my lifeblood. That’s what I live for, and I...I’ve been so busy. I don’t even draw anymore. Not really. And it’s fine. I know I needed to grow up and get a real education with real stability. It’s just-”

“That sounds like your dad talking, Stevie. Not you. If you want to be an artist...that’s what you should be doing. You shouldn’t- force yourself to-” he stopped then and smiled. “Tell ya what. You showed me your world. Let me show you mine. Come to the farm this weekend. I have a soft opening in the morning. You could come by and once I close up, I can show you around.”

“Soft opening?” Steve asked, looking confused. Bucky smiled.

“Every fall I open up the farm. I have a pumpkin patch, corn maze, hayride. The local kids love it. I open one Saturday a few weeks in advance just to test everything. So I can make sure October runs smoothly and iron out any kinks that come up during the first day. You can see all the kids, and then I’ll take you around.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Bucky, but I don’t know. I’m not very-”

“Don’t tell me Steve Rogers is afraid of a little mud? C’mon, city boy. Let me take you to the country. You like horses?”

“I’ve- I’ve never even  _ seen  _ a-”

“Of course you haven’t. C’mon. Just agree. I promise you’ll have fun. Who knows. You might even be  _ happy _ way out there in the boonies.” They both laughed.

“Fine,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I’ll come.”

Bucky grinned. “Perfect. Now, c’mon before we get yelled at for PDA in front of the art or something,” he joked, standing and offering Steve his hand before pulling him up and wrapping his arm around the man’s neck again.

“Thanks,” Steve said, looking up at Bucky as they made their way out. “For coming with me.”

Bucky just smiled and leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Thanks for showing me who you really are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thrive on kudos and comments. Also, huge thank you to the Cap Quintet groupchat because I love you all so, so much. <3


	8. I Wanna Look At The Horizon And Not See A Building Standing Tall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said cowboy take me away.  
> Fly this boy as high as you can into the wild blue.  
> Set me free, oh, I pray.  
> Closer to heaven above and closer to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a beautiful commission by the lovely @em_dibujsb on twitter! Thank you so much, bby! Your talent is immeasurable and I'm so lucky that you were willing to do this piece!
> 
> This chapter was the first spark that started this whole fic. This commission was the image I had in my head which drove me crazy until I actually started writing it, so I hope you all enjoy!

Steve was...nervous. To say the least. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the date and the museum, and those steel blue eyes kept dancing in his head. He saw them throughout the day when he started daydreaming during criminal law, at night as he laid down for bed, they infiltrated his dreams at night. Even those private moments he spent moaning into his pillow, those eyes made an appearance in his head. It made getting through his week rather difficult. He’d talked to Bucky a few times via text, but the older man was busy with the upcoming farm opening. It wasn’t that Steve was really complaining. He had a lot of work to do himself with midterms fast approaching. Most of the week was spent going over cases and memorizing court rulings. But, come Saturday he didn’t feel any more prepared for his exams or to see Bucky at the farm.

He dressed himself quickly, a blue button down, black slacks, and a pair of black wingtips. When he came out of his room Sam choked on the cereal he was eating. “You are _not_ wearing that to a farm!” he said laughing. Steve frowned.

“What’s wrong with it? We’re not like..riding horses. Besides. I wanna...I don’t know...look nice.” Sam laughed harder.

“You’ve got it _bad_ , Rogers.” Steve rolled his eyes and checked his phone. His Uber would be there soon. He flipped Sam the bird and made his way downstairs.

It was a little after twelve PM when Steve arrived and the farm was full. Kids were running around everywhere with their friends and parents. Steve was clearly more than a little overwhelmed and out of his element based by his appearance and body language. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before he spotted that familiar build with his hair tied in a little bun.

“Uhh...Bucky?”

He was busy helping a little girl carry a pumpkin almost twice the size of her head to her parents. “Thanks, Mr. Bucky!” she said sweetly. 

“You’re welcome, Alyssa, sweetheart. Don’t forget. Next hayride is in five minutes!” Bucky smiled and patted her head before turning to see Steve. Then, to Steve’s horror, the brunet started laughing.

“Oh, come on! You can’t be serious! I ask you to come to my farm and you show up in _wingtips_?” Bucky asked, giggling like a schoolgirl. Steve thought he was stunning. Bucky looked beautiful in his own element like this. Black and red flannel and jeans which were tucked into a pair of cowboy boots.

“Hey! That isn’t fair! Don’t laugh at me!” Steve argued, crossing his arms. He was standing in a mud puddle, and his shoes were sinking. He moved quickly to a more stable piece of ground. “I wanted to look nice for you,” he mumbled more to himself than to Bucky, but the brunet must have heard him because he crossed to Steve then and laced their fingers together.

“You look incredible.”

This time, it was Steve’s turn to blush.

“I- uh- So this is it, huh?” he asked looking around at all the kids running and playing. “Lots of kids.”

“This is it,” Bucky confirmed. “We’re just about to close for the day, but I promised this little girl and her family one more hayride. They came later than they had planned to because her piano lesson ran a little late. They always come by the farm a few times a year. Why don’t you come with us?”

“What? No, no. I don’t think-”

“Yeah! We’ll do this ride, and then I’ll call it a day. Once everyone is gone, I’ll show you around.”

“Bucky, I-”

“EVERYONE INTO THE TRAILER! HAYRIDE IN TWENTY SECONDS!”

There was a general yell of excitement from the kids as everyone rushed towards the trailers covered in hay.

“Bucky, please-!”

“You better go. There won’t be any room to sit!” he winked at Steve before running off to start the tractor.

Steve stood dazed for a few seconds before making his way over and climbing onto the trailer. The little girl Steve had seen Bucky helping plopped herself next to Steve and grinned up at him. “I’m Alyssa,” she said as the ride began. “Mr. Bucky is one of my best friends. How do you know him?”

The blond looked at the little girl more than a little caught off guard. “I- uh- We- We’re friends, too,” he explained, wondering just how well Bucky really knew this girl. Alyssa didn’t seem phased by Steve’s words. She nodded and looked around.

“Well, _I’ve_ never seen you before,” she said, looking up at him suspiciously, and Steve had definitely not planned on getting third degree from a seven year old. “I’m _eight_ ,” she corrected, and Steve hadn’t realized he’d even said that out loud. _“_ And I don’t really have a lot of friends, but Mr. Bucky is always nice to me. He said we could be friends last year.”

“That’s- That’s awesome. I’m- I’m a new friend of B- Mr. Bucky’s,” he explained, looking up and catching Bucky’s eye as the farmer looked back to check on his passengers. Bucky winked at him and turned back around to drive the tractor.

“You don’t look like you really belong here,” she observed, looking at Steve’s clothes.

“Alyssa!” a woman, her mother Steve assumed, exclaimed.

“It’s okay,” he said, smiling at the woman. “She’s right. I don’t really fit in here. I’m hoping to learn though. That’s why I’m here. For Mr. Bucky to teach me,” he said, turning his gaze to Alyssa. The eight year old seemed satisfied with that answer, and they chatted a bit more before the ride finally came to an end.

“Alright everyone!” Bucky said as he dismounted the tractor. “Thank you all so much for coming out! I hope y’all come by again when we’re officially opened in a few weeks! Look for the hours in the paper!” he called as happy families began gathering their stuff and making their way to the exits. Alyssa came running up and gave Bucky a huge bear hug.

“See you in a couple weeks, Mr. Bucky. Hopefully you teach your friend how to dress,” she said, giggling.

“I’m working on it, sweetheart. Maybe you can give him some fashion tips before you go?” he asked, and Steve chuckled. If his mother could see him now, she’d have a stroke.

Alyssa grinned and showed off her pink cowboy boots. “Start with something like these. Maybe brown like Mr. Bucky’s. Or black. And maybe one of those plaid shirts Mr. Bucky and my dad wear!”

“Flannel,” Bucky corrected.

“Yeah! Flannel!” The little girl’s mother called for her then and she gave Bucky another hug before waving bye to the men. Steve looked down between them and laughed, shaking his head.

“Fashion advice from an eight year old. Certainly not how I expected this day to go,” he said, grinning up at Bucky.

“Welcome surprise?”

“Definitely.”

“C’mon. Wanna show you something.” Bucky took Steve’s hand and started walking towards the barn.

Steve let himself be pulled along as he looked around the farm. It was pretty. Rows of corn and various other vegetable gardens littered around the land. As they neared the big brown barn, Steve could see an open area with a little fence around it. He knew what this was.

“Bucky,” he started, the nerves clear in his voice.

“Hey, you trust me right? I just wanna introduce you to my best girl. I promise, you’ll like her.”

“I’m a dog person,” Steve blurted out before even thinking.

“Well, that might be a problem, pal. Because I got a cat and horses.”

As they walked into the barn, Steve’s eyes grew wide. There were at least five horses in the barn. 

“Cats are good,” he said distractedly. He heard Bucky’s laugh in the distance.

“C’mon, I’ll have complete control over her. She’s calm. You don’t have to get on her or nothing. Just wanna show you my world. You in?”

Steve bit his lip and considered the big, brown horse for a moment before nodding. He was here to learn about Bucky’s world, wasn’t he? “I’m in.”

Bucky grinned and went to work he put the halter on the big horse. Once she was secure, he led her out of the stall. Steve jumped back, surprised at how much bigger she looked outside of the confined space.

“C’mon. We’ll turn her loose in the pasture.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Turn her loose?”

“Stevie, she’s my best horse. She’ll be just fine. Just relax.”

The blond watched as Bucky led them out into a field and released the horse from her halter. Slowly, Steve walked out and joined them. The horse stood in between the two men and Steve looked up at her, his eyes wide with uncertainty.

“You can pet her,” Bucky said, but Steve just shook his head, staring up at the animal. “Her name is Em. She was my first horse. Got her when I was just sixteen. I know, most kids get a car. I wanted her. She’s strong. Beautiful. She’s the one I usually have out for the kids to pet during the fall. She likes kids and handles them really well. She’s got a good personality, my girl. Go on. Pet her.”

Bucky stood with his hands on his hips watching as Steve looked at the horse. He took a deep breath and looked to Bucky for encouragement.

“Just like this,” placing his own hand on the back of Em and running his hand slowly down her back. She almost didn’t respond to him other then a turn of her head. After a minute, Steve decided to be brave. He reached forward and pet the horse just as Bucky had done. She let out a loud breath and Steve pulled away quickly out of fear.

“Hey,” Bucky started, smiling a little. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. Horses can sense fear. You probably just spooked her a little is all. Just take a deep breath and try again.”

There was no way Steve was trying that again, but then the horse looked at him, and he looked over at Bucky, standing there and looking at him with this look so full of fondness and Steve got the sudden urge to show Bucky that he was more than his financial status. He wasn’t just some upper class law student. He wanted to prove to Bucky that he could fit in and be part of Bucky’s world here on the farm. Maybe part of him even wanted to. So he reached out again, putting one hand on the horse’s back to steady both himself and Em, then placing his other hand on her back as well before running it down her back. After a few moments he even started to grin. The horse was calm, beautiful, and strong. Very similar to how he saw Bucky, actually. This pillar of strength who had lost his parents and given up his baseball career and college education for a life on the farm. It was a lot for any one man to handle, and yet here he was, the kind of man who opened up his farm to hayrides, pumpkin patches, and corn mazes for the local children. The kind of guy who helped you into his truck and let you pick the music. The kind of guy who treated animals as if they were even more special than people. Maybe to him, they were. Steve smiled, looking over at Bucky who was watching him pet the horse.

“What is it?” the older man asked. Steve just shook his head.

“I like your world,” he said simply. There wasn’t much else needed to be said between them. After awhile, Bucky put Em back in her stall and walked Steve out to the road where an Uber was waiting, holding his hand tight as they walked.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to-”

“Bucky, I can take the Uber. It’s fine. You don’t have to drive me home.”

“I just feel like I should-”

“I know, you’re a model gentleman, but I promise I’ll still think that even if I take an Uber back to the city.” They fell quiet for a moment before Bucky spoke up.

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing Steve’s hand, “for coming today.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I really had a great time. This place...It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Steve blushed at the compliment, unsure of how to answer Bucky.

“Thank you,” was all he could decide on.

“Can I see you again?” Bucky asked, and Steve thought he almost sounded...nervous. As if he didn’t think Steve would want to come back. As if this wasn’t the best date of the blond’s life.

“I’d love that. Maybe I could come back? Meet your cat and hang out?”

“Alpine. Yeah, I’d like that. He’s probably hiding somewhere. He’s not too fond of having that many kids around at once.” 

“I don’t blame him there. One or two, maybe, but this place was crazy when I got here!” Steve said, grinning up at Bucky who laughed and shook his head.

“You’d better go. I- uh- Don’t want your Uber to leave you.”

“Right,” Steve started to go before turning back to Bucky. “I really had a great time today. Thank you.”

“Me too, Stevie.”

Steve leaned up and kissed Bucky’s cheek softly before opening the door to the Uber and slipping in. “Bye, Bucky,” he said, closing the door behind him. He turned around watching as the car drove down the long, dirt driveway, and Bucky just stood there, grinning with his right hand touching the spot where Steve’s lips had been just a few seconds earlier.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title as well as the chapter titles are from the song Cowboy Take Me Away by the Dixie Chicks. Please comment if you want and feel free to follow me on twitter as well @capwinterspidey for more Stevebucky content.


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